


The Dye Trade

by McBaconface



Series: The Dye Trade [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Abduction, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Humans, I'm setting the rating to mature because I'm unfamiliar with the site's rules and this may get dicey, alcohol use (nothing major), female agents, they have real names but don't expect to see them often, tobacco use (nothing major), well this is a motley collection of tags that we've got here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBaconface/pseuds/McBaconface
Summary: Instead of enjoying a blissful Sunday morning off, Four was sent to escort an octoling from the densely wooded Triggerfish Forest to Inkopolis. What should have been a routine retrieval quickly went south. Now, the New Squidbeak Splatoon must grapple with a new foe, one that can make the "Octarian Menace" look like a pack of irate children in comparison.They sure have got their work cut out for them.
Series: The Dye Trade [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141685
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Dye Trade

Four tightened her scarf in a futile attempt to ward off the cold’s bite. The rising sun casted a bright orange glow over Triggerfish Forest snow-crowned trees and set clouds of her breath aflame. Dawn’s light shimmered off the ubiquitous blankets of snow and the forest looked like it was dusted with ground opals. Songbirds flitted from tree to tree, cheerfully singing their ancient tunes. Unfortunately, Four was too grouchy to appreciate the forest’s beauty. 

_What a way to spend a Sunday morning_ , she thought to herself. Four would rather be warm and sleeping in bed like any sane squid than carry out a last-minute escort mission. Despite the extreme reasonability of Four’s wishes, her NSS handler had other ideas for how Four should spend her time. Marie woke Four up a few hours ago when she dropped a backpack full of equipment on Four’s sleeping chest. Four still wasn’t sure how Marie got into her apartment, the window was the most likely point of entry but Four had no idea how Marie got inside without shattering it. It was unnerving.

The mystery of Marie’s breaking-and-entering aside, she sent Four out to Triggerfish Forest to escort an octoling by the name of Konchu safely to Inkopolis. Apparently, Marina had been in contact with this octoling for weeks and planned on meeting him today, but some showbiz bullsquit or something came up and she asked the New Squidbeak Splatoon to go in her stead. Four didn’t know why she had to trudge through foot-deep snow instead of Three or Eight.

“Because I’m worried Three will work herself to death and Eight doesn’t know how to dress for cold weather,” Marie answered when Four asked over her headphones’ radio. “Plus, I thought your charming smile would put this octoling kid at ease more than Three’s permanent grimace.”

“It’s hard to smile when I haven’t had my beauty sleep,” Four grumbled.

“Aw, you’re starting to sound like me,” Marie snarked, the smirk on her face practically audible. “Try some of the hot chocolate I put in the backpack. That’ll wake you up.”

Four shouldered her Hero Shot and unslung her backpack. She removed the thermos from the bottle holder and unscrewed the cap. Rich, brown liquid poured into the cup and steamed tantalizingly. Four took a deep gulp of the beverage and immediately spat it out. “What’s in this?” she choked.

“Hot chocolate, mostly,” Marie answered. “Coffee. Maybe some whiskey, too, now that I think about it.”

“Whiskey?!” Four sputtered.

“Calm down, there’s probably not a lot in there. Callie made it for me, and she knows I don’t like too much this early.”

“Why do I have your drink?”

“Well, I was supposed to go on this mission first, but then I remembered that I don’t like slogging through snow, so I had you go instead.”

“Is it too late to pawn this off on Callie?” Four asked.

“Carp doesn’t roll uphill, Four.”

Four grumbled to herself as she continued to shuffle through the snow. As she meandered along, a realization struck her. “Hey Marie, wasn’t the Cap’n’s ghost story on Splatoween set in this forest?”

“It was,” Marie replied. “I remember that you vomited in a cheap angler fish mask because of it.”

“Hey! It was gross!” After a few moments, Four asked, “Do you think it was real?” She tried to conceal the fearful edge to her voice.

“Who knows?” Marie said, audibly smug. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but Gramps sure seemed sincere.”

Before Four could respond, a series of deafening cracks sounded to her left. Four practically jumped out of her skin and fired her Hero Shot wildly. A root buried beneath the snow snagged her flailing foot and she fell face first into the snow. Four was dimly aware of Marie cackling through the radio. “It was just tree branches breaking from the weight of the snow, Four!”

“C’mon! It’s not that funny!”

“We’ll let the group chat be the judge of that.”

Vibrations in her pocket indicated that Marie had just sent the clip of her falling flat to the entire splatoon. Grimacing, Four rose from the cold earth and wiped clumps of snow from her chest. While Marie continued to guffaw at her misstep, Four took stock of her surroundings. The forest was far denser than it was just a few minutes ago, but the dawn light still pierced the canopy unabated. Snow depressing the branches probably had something to do with the unfiltered sunlight.

“How far away am I from the rendezvous?” Four asked.

“Not far,” Marie supplied. “Only about ten minutes’ walk left. You’re meeting him in an abandoned Octarian bunker from the Great Turf War. You can’t miss it.”

“Could I super jump to him?”

“If you want to get torn apart by the forest canopy, go ahead.”

Four groaned and resumed her slow march. If she was honest with herself, Four was grateful for this assignment—the cold and early hour notwithstanding. Aside from school, the New Squidbeak Splatoon was her only reason to leave her apartment. It wasn’t like she hated going outside or whatever—she wasn’t Three—Four had a bad habit of becoming enthralled to her phone for hours on end.

“So, Four,” Marie began, radio static slightly distorting her voice, “How’s prison?”

“Oh, you mean Silversea? It’s fine, my grades are good enough to keep my parents off my case.”

“Good, good. How are your parents, by the way?”

“Fine, I guess.” Four adjusted her scarf. “Their consulting business is doing well, apparently.”

“Too busy to talk to you?” Marie asked, her staticky voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, but it’s fine; they’re coming from Caviari for a visit on Friday. Which reminds me,” Four said, “could you come by my apartment on Wednesday? I need an expert’s advice on something.”

“On what?”

“Well…” she trailed off as she considered how to ask the question. “There’s kind of… a dude coming over on Thursday for dinner and I’d like some pro-tips.”

“Oooh!” Four could imagine the Squid Sister leaning forward with a suggestive look on her face. “Who’s the poor sap?”

“Just a guy from school! If you’re too busy to help, it’s—"

“Hold that thought,” Marie ordered. “You’re just outside the rendezvous.”

Four turned her attention back to reality; the conversation took most of her focus and she had been walking on autopilot. Ahead of her stood the decrepit shell of an Octarian Great Turf War bunker. A few snow-covered saplings dotted the clearing surrounding the structure. As Four neared the bunker, she saw countless cracks that snaked through the weathered concrete and bisected sun-bleached and flaking ink stains.

“ _Hello_?” Four called out in Octarian, desperately trying to remember all that Eight taught her. “ _Konchu is here_?” A low, metallic creaking sounded from the bunker’s rear, which was presumably the building’s door. _Nailed it!_ Four thought.

When she rounded the corner, she saw the rusty door was wide open and gently swayed with the breeze. Four peered into the forebodingly dark room from the doorway. “ _Hello_?” she tried again. “ _The friend is me, I here Marinated from.”_ Four waited for the octoling to emerge from the shadows, but he didn’t appear. Four pressed a hand onto her headphones. “Marie, he isn’t here.”

“Did you go inside the bunker?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t know he’s not here. Get in there.”

Four swallowed nervously and crossed the threshold into the crumbling fortification. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light that filtered in through the uncovered windows, she saw signs that the octoling was here recently. Boot prints had disturbed the heavy coat of dust on the floor. The possible first pair of prints was next to a rusted grate, that was presumably where the octoling first surfaced. He apparently paced back and forth for some time before seemingly vanishing, since his small boot prints didn’t diverge from the path they’d made.

“Marie, he’s not here.”

“Hmmm… Check outside for footprints. He couldn’t have disappeared into thin air.”

Four exited the bunker and noticed something strange. A pair of large, elliptical tracks that tapered on one end, like a tennis racket, trailed from the doorway to the forest. Oddly, despite being so large, the tracks were shallow. Shallower than her own footprints. “Marie, can you see this?”

“Yes, I can. How did you miss these before?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I guess I was excited about speaking Octarian correctly,” Four answered sheepishly. “Or maybe it was the whiskey.”

“Well, whatever the reason, those tracks are our only clue as to where our octoling friend is. Get going, Four.”

Four tightened her boots’ laces and jostled her ink tank and backpack into a more comfortable position, but before she left an unnerving thought struck her. “Hey Marie,” she began.

“Hm?”

“Didn’t the monster in the Cap’n’s story have big feet that left really shallow indents in the snow?”

“Oh, for Cod’s sake, Four!” Marie cried exasperatedly. “It was just a scary story! Stop worrying about it! I know Gramps made it sound real, but it’s just an imaginary monster! It can’t hurt you any more than the Nantai Banshee or the Calamari Salmonling can.”

“But—”

“Move it!”

Four took a deep breath and began following the tracks of her quarry. Although, she couldn’t help but anxiously wonder if she was the hunter or the hunted.

* * *

Marie rubbed her temples as she watched Agent Four’s camera feed from Cuttlefish Cabin, Octo Canyon. Four was a great agent, but she froze like tuna in headlights whenever something looked remotely paranormal. Marie couldn’t fathom how the same girl who fought the entire Octarian Military with a lackadaisical grin was too scared to go in the cabin’s basement when it made a “suspicious” creak. _At least I could cajole her into doing her job today_ , Marie thought. _Maybe the whiskey helped_.

As Marie took a long draft of her Fryish coffee, her phone rang. An Off the Hook remix of “Now or Never” meant it was Marina calling. Marie pressed the green icon and held it up to her ear. “What’s cooking, Marina?”

“Oh! Hello, Miss Marie! It’s Marina, but you already knew that I guess,” she rambled.

“For the last time, Marina, you _can_ call me just ‘Marie.’”

“I know, I know! It’s a force of habit!” Marina said. “Anyway! Our producers finally gave us a break and I thought I’d ask how the mission’s going.” There was an awkward pause. “So, how’s the mission going?”

“It’s going well, except for the fact that the objective is missing.”

“What? Do you need help finding him? I can be there in ten minutes!”

“Don’t worry,” Marie assured her, “Four is on his trail. She’s one of my best agents, and I’m keeping a close eye on her at all times via her headphones. Your octoling will be in Inkopolis eating Crusty Seanwiches by noon.” Marie took another long swig of her spiked coffee while Marina replied.

“Well, if you’re sure you don’t need my help…” she trailed off, apparently reluctant to sit by on the sidelines. “I guess I’ll leave you to it—”

She was cut off by Marie spewing coffee all over her desk. “Marie? Marie?! What happened?”

“F-Four’s been caught!” Marie sputtered.

“I’ll be right there,” Marina stated before hanging up.

Marie was left to the sound of Four’s increasingly panicked screams and the muted drip of Fryish coffee to the floor.

* * *

One moment Four was jogging through the snow, following a mysterious pair of tracks through the densely wooded Triggerfish Forest, the next everything was upside-down and dark. For the first time in years, Four was terrified. She flailed and kicked blindly, but her limbs met resistance from walls of rough fabric. Her breaths shortened as she struggled and begged Marie to respond. “Marie! Marie! The fucking Snatcher’s got me, Marie!” She cried. “It’s gonna fucking eat me, Marie! What do I do?!”

“Four!” Marie snapped. “Listen to me! You are not going to be eaten.” Four heard rustling and clanking from Marie’s end. “I’m getting Sheldon and we are bailing you out of there.” Normally, Four would relax knowing that rescue was on its way, but she couldn’t control her fear.

“But this exact thing happened in the Cap’n’s story, remember?!” she worriedly retorted. “He saw an Octarian caught in a bag trap or something! Oh, Cod, I’m gonna die! I’m—”

“Quinn,” Marie interrupted. Hearing her real name snapped Four out of her panicked babbling. “I know you’re scared but panicking about an imaginary monster won’t help you right now,” Marie said firmly. “What will help, is telling me about your surroundings.”

“If it wasn’t real, why would there be a trap like this in the middle of nowhere? Hunting’s not legal here,” Four said. Marie did not supply an answer.

After a few seconds, Four managed to calm down enough to gain her bearings. The only light in this cramped space came from her headphones and the soft natural glow of her short tentacles. Clumps of snow clung to her, but there wasn’t enough to harm her while in kid form. The walls of her surprise prison appeared to be burlap or some similar material. Upon closer inspection, she realized that they were coated in a slippery substance that prevented her from climbing up the sides of the sack.

Four relayed all this information to Marie. “Looks like you’ll have to sit tight until we get there,” Marie replied. “Hang on a sec, I have to transfer your feed from the HQ computer to my phone. Don’t do anything ‘till I come back online. Okay?”

“Okay…”

Marie’s reassuring radio static cut out; Four was alone. At least she was, until she heard something suspicious. It was barely perceptible, but she heard faint, measured crunching from below her. Then the sack she was trapped in jerked up and down and began a steady descent. Her breath had completely stopped by this point and she dared not move an inch. Finally, her suspended prison returned to solid earth. Four anxiously readied her Hero Shot as the measured crunching grew louder.

Something tugged at the sack and pried its mouth open. Four inhaled deeply and squeezed the trigger. Her shots collided into a solid surface with meaty _thunks_. Whatever it was, it stumbled back. Four shifted into squid form and wormed her way out of the narrow opening. She shifted back into her humanoid form after she popped out. As her eyes readjusted to the sunlight, she glimpsed her opponent.

It was tall. Easily a head taller than Marina. Thick, brown fur covered most of its body. Whether the fur was natural or some kind of clothing, Four couldn’t tell. Attached to its feet were large, wooden objects that matched the snow tracks she followed earlier. A long metal tube hung from its body by a leather strap. The thing’s face (or at least what Four thought was the face) was currently caked with yellow ink. It matched the Cap’n’s description of the Triggerfish Snatcher almost to a T.

Now was the time to press her advantage while it was blinded. Four opened fire on the furry monstrosity. Ink splattered over the monster, coating it in a thick layer of yellow. Mechanical clicking abruptly ended the torrent of ink. Four glanced at her tank. _Empty_. She almost caved to instinct to shoot a puddle at her feet, but she realized that the snow would dissolve her if she did. Her only option was to wait to refill naturally.

The Snatcher wiped the ink from its eyes, and Four saw two sunken pits full of cool rage glaring back at her. It reached into its fur (a jacket made of fur, Four realized) and drew a thick, wooden club. About a foot and a half long, the Snatcher raised it into the air and quickly brought it down at her head. Four dodged to the right, then the monster swung the cudgel back at her. Four dashed backwards, but the club still smashed into the Hero Shot. Four barely stopped the weapon from flying out of her hands. She drew the weapon back and loosed a quick barrage at the thing’s face as she backpedaled, but the ink splattered harmlessly against the Snatcher’s raised arm.

 _Ink doesn’t hurt it_ , Four thought. _Have to disable it somehow._ The monster raised a leg slightly as it swung at her again. The club did not hit her, but an idea did. Those big, wooden shoes looked like they could retain a lot of ink. She fired at the thing’s feet, and a yellow pool accumulated on and around its shoes. Its movements slowed, but not by enough. This thing wouldn’t go down without additional inkpower. _Time for a tactical retreat_ , she thought.

Four spun away from another swing at her head and shot a path of ink up a tree. The Snatcher thrusted but Four leaped back, transforming into a squid midair. She landed in the ink and swam up to the highest branch she could. From the branch, she inked the path further up the old oak. Once she was a comfortable distance away from the Snatcher, Four emerged from the ink and sat on a branch. The Snatcher was far below her, grumbling something unintelligible to itself.

Static sparked once again in Four’s ears. “Hey, Four,” Marie began. “I’m in the van with Sheldon. Sorry it took so long to reconnect, the bluebeak never works on—what the shell happened?!”

“Snatcher… tried…get me,” Four panted. “Ink… doesn’t… work. It just keeps going. Though I don’t think it can get me while I’m up here.”

“That’s my Agent Four,” Marie beamed. “I knew no ‘Snatcher’ could get you. Anyway, I’m with Sheldon right now, we should be there in ten. Wait, what’s it doing?”

Four looked down at the monster. It unslung the long, metal tube from its shoulder and pointed it at her. It was at this moment that Four remembered one last detail from the Cap’n’s story: The Snatcher blew that one guy’s arm off. “Uh-oh,” Four breathed.

A cloud of smoke accompanied by an ear-shattering pop burst from the end of the tube. Four jolted as her Hero Shot was knocked from her hands. The weapon tumbled to the ground, crashing into branches as it fell. Four teetered on the branch and slipped backwards. She contorted her body and shot her hand out. Luckily, she felt the coarse bark within her grasp. Marie shouted something to Four as the latter dangled from the bough by one hand.

Four quickly looked back to the Snatcher. It brought a brownish-white horn up to the smoking end of its metal tube and appeared to pour something inside. “What’s it doing?!” Four asked, terrified.

“Maybe it’s using a human weapon?” Sheldon offered. His voice was quieter than Marie’s, he was probably the one driving the van. “A loud ‘bang’ and smoke were characteristics of human ‘firearms,’ but I don’t think I’m familiar with what this particular one is.”

“Why would a monster in the woods be using a human weapon?” Marie wondered aloud. “Where would it even get one? Unless—”

“It’s plunging a metal stick into the tube!” Four interrupted.

The Snatcher withdrew the metal stick and choked up its grip on the wood and metal tube. It pulled back on a metallic protuberance with a menacing _click_. The “firearm” was once again aimed at Four. She froze. Sheldon and Marie shouted, ordered, pleaded her to do _something_ , but Four barely heard them. At that moment, there was nothing in the world but that monster and her. The feeling was mutual. The Snatcher stood rigid and erect, looking much the way Four did when she used a charger. She was its singular focus.

Their private world was shattered when a blob of purple and teal crashed into the Snatcher. The firearm discharged as the Snatcher and Four’s unknown savior crumpled into the snow. Something whizzed by above Four’s head and embedded itself in the oak’s trunk. Shards of bark and ice pelted her, but she was otherwise unharmed.

“That must be Marina!” Marie realized. “What the shell is she doing here? Know what? Whatever. Help her!”

Four snapped out of her reverie. She loosed her white-knuckle grip on the branch and dropped. She landed on a branch about ten feet lower. Then she jumped from one bough to the next, each leap brought her closer to the ground. Four couldn’t see the Snatcher and Marina’s struggle, clouds of smoke and snow still obscured them from view. A pit formed in Four’s gut; what if that thing had already eaten Marina? Four knew that Marina once served in the Octarian military, but, like their inkling counterparts, octolings still relied on ink weapons. Alone she was practically takoyaki. Desperate to guarantee the star’s survival, Four rushed to the smoke cloud the moment she touched solid ground.

What she saw was disturbingly familiar: The Snatcher kneeled over a supine, thrashing Marina. The monster had forced Marina’s head into the snow with one hand and held a knife high with the other, ready to plunge it down into the flailing octoling’s stomach. Marina, for her part, refused to go so easily. She grasped the arm wielding the knife and strained to keep it from moving an inch. “Four!” Marina ordered through grit beak. “Grab… the… wrench!”

Four glanced around and saw a pipe wrench discarded in the snow. She clutched the tool, it was weighty. Hopefully heavy enough to hurt the monster. Four dashed to the pair, hefting the wrench high as she ran. She would _not_ let Marina end up like that nameless octoling private. The Snatcher seemingly had not noticed Four’s presence, it did not realize the danger until it was too late.

Four brought the pipe wrench down on its head. Hard. It collided with a heavy _thud_. The Snatcher loosed a pained grunt and was knocked off balance. Marina scrambled from its weakened grip and rose. She wrenched the tool from Four’s hands and swung it like a baseball bat into the Snatcher’s head. The Thing crumpled to the ground soundlessly, red liquid trickled softly from the spot where Marina whacked it. The forest was silent save for Marina’s labored breathing.

“Holy fuck…” Marie whispered, almost reverently.

Four cleared her throat. “Um, M-Marina?”

The DJ’s head snapped to Four. Her face was plastered with an unplaceable expression. Four couldn’t tell if Marina was terrified, furious, sad, or coldly indifferent. All her tentacles were curled and unusually still. “Are you good?” Four asked.

Marina nodded wordlessly and turned back to the Snatcher. Four inched closer to the prone creature and poked it with her boot.

Four sighed, “Carrying this home is going to suck.”

**Author's Note:**

> And so begins a story I've had in the back of my mind for months.
> 
> There are plenty of fanfictions out there that feature humans, but they almost all introduce them the same way; a young human emerges from cryostasis in which they were the sole survivor (or a space shuttle for all the difference that makes) and transitions into inkling society with ease. Frankly, I don't find these stories very believable. When it comes to survivability, humans are giant, two-legged cockroaches. Populations definitely would have survived the climate disasters of Splatoon's backstory and carried on for 12,000 years. As to where those populations are... well, we'll see in due time.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
